41. Arms Of Steel
41
ARMS OF STEEL
When Tayla arrived home from work the following Wednesday, she found Valentina in the laundry room doing the ironing. She popped her head around the door. “You’re here late. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I have exams soon, so I’m trying to juggle my workload.”
“I can take over the cleaning if you want.”
Valentina stopped mid-press, stood the iron on its heel and frowned. “I need this job. I’m saving for my sewing machine, remember?”
“I’m not suggesting you leave, just take a few days off. We’ll still pay you. Think of it as a bonus.”
“Thanks, but has Mitch ever told you the story of how he hired me?”
Apart from the odd time, Mitch didn’t often discuss his staff with Tayla. “I’m not sure.”
“I was fifteen. Young, stupid. He caught me stealing oranges from the trees by the highway. Mum was sick with the flu. We had no money, hardly any food in the house, and I thought no one would miss them. I was scared stiff, but instead of telling Mum, he offered me a job. Now I get all the oranges I want, but I earn them.”
Tayla studied the beautiful wild child in front of her, marveling at such pride and dedication in one so young. “I never knew that.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m thankful for this job.”
“And we appreciate all you do for us.”
Valentina grabbed another pillow slip from the pile and smoothed it onto the board. “I don’t always get it right, but I try. Dad left when I was little…jumped the ditch to Australia. My relationship with Mitch is important to me.”
Tayla nodded. She’d already worked that one out and suspected the feeling was mutual. “I understand. Right, I’d better get changed and hit the river track. Mitch is teaching me to surf, so I have to stay fit.”
“Good luck with that.” Valentina chuckled. “He sometimes coaches my rugby team. He’s deadly behind that smile.”
“Yep. I got that vibe the other day.”
When Tayla walked into the bedroom, a pile of freshly pressed clothes sat on the chair. While putting them away, she found a cotton jacket and a blood-red G-string that didn’t belong to her. Thinking they must be CeCe’s, she returned to the laundry room and placed the folded jacket and panties on top of the washing machine. “These were in my pile.”
Valentina looked up from her ironing. “They’re not yours?”
Tayla shook her head. “No, not mine. Maybe CeCe’s.”
“Or they might be Prue’s from when she stayed while you were in Sydney.”
Rational thoughts vanished as Tayla processed Valentina’s words. She watched the iron glide over the cotton, steam rising off the board with a hiss. When she did manage to form a reply, she had trouble executing it. Seconds passed in silence .
“I’ll give them to CeCe when she’s here next. She can pass them on if they’re not hers.”
Valentina looked at Tayla, her eyes wide with alarm. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, but she stayed all the time before you guys were married, even a couple of times after they’d finished. She’s a sales rep and travels a lot. Please don’t tell Mitch I told you. He always says”—she made a gruff-looking face and lowered her tone—“discretion in all things, Valentina.”
I wonder why? It was a cynical thought, one that normally wouldn’t have entered Tayla’s head. Who was this jealous person inside of her? “It’s okay. Mitch doesn’t need to ask my permission to have houseguests.”
Valentina hesitated. “I didn’t like Prue much at first.” She folded a pillow slip and placed it on the counter before reaching for another. “She’s such a drama queen, and they argued a lot. Yells like a fishwife, as Mum would say. But she was always kind to me. It was Mitch she was horrible to. Not that I saw them together often, but she’d roll her eyes at stuff he said. I hate that, don’t you?”
“I do.” Tayla picked up the jacket and panties and walked toward the door. Engaging in a conversation about Prue wasn’t a smart move. “I’ll leave you a bag of oranges on the kitchen counter. They’re big and ugly but taste divine.”
“Thanks. Mum loves oranges. And I’m sorry I have such a big mouth.”
“It’s fine. You weren’t to know.”
Tayla jogged along the river track until her lungs burned with determination and her mind screamed with regret. There had once been a time when she’d act before her thoughts had a chance to register. But after what had happened with Hayden, she’d learned to take a different tack. To step sideways and observe from a distance before making rash decisions. Or so she’d told herself.
Leaning over to catch her breath, Tayla checked her Garmin. And as she watched the sun dip behind the western hill line, she wondered where Mitch went on his Wednesday poker nights—and who he was with. She’d never thought to question if he really stayed at Luka’s. But that was before she’d become invested in his world. Before he’d slid over her skin, claiming her with his arms of steel and hot mouth.
Tayla walked most of the way home, her energy only returning when she passed the lemon trees of the northern block, their blossoms fragrant in the evening air. She bounded up the stairs and made a start on dinner, already chastising herself for doubting Mitch’s sincerity.
But by midnight, as her thoughts raced with whys and what-ifs, doubt settled in a vacant corner of her mind. Feet on the floor, she cradled her head in her hands and sighed.
Outside in the night sky, a brilliant full moon mocked her exhaustion. Inside, the noise in her head did the same. She picked her phone up off the nightstand and unlocked it. She didn’t know why. Habit?
Or maybe she did.
Mitch: Thinking of you in bed this morning - my lips on your neck, your scent wafting around me…your touch… xx
As Mitch drove home from his meeting with Chris Stone the following day, an image of Tayla lying on their bed the day before came to mind. With the crinkled sheet covering her naked body, the line of her collarbone and the creaminess of her skin had taken his breath away. Apart from the few months that he and Prue were engaged, he’d seldom considered the term ‘domestic bliss’ and its connotations. But there were no other words for it. He was domestically happy.
Arriving at the loft before Tayla, Mitch entered his office to check his email. There was one from Ella asking if they could meet, and another from the police saying they had no leads on the avocado or grapefruit thefts. Not that he expected they would.
His phone rang. He picked it up and hit Accept. “Luka. What’s up?”
“How did the meeting with Mr. Stone go?”
“Fantastic. I asked him about the OCA complaint, he denied any knowledge and called me out for filling Ella’s head with organics bullshit. Then just as I was about to leave, he pushed me against the wall and threatened me to stay away.”
“But the guy’s half your size.”
“Yeah, but he’s strong. He used to box as a teenager.” Mitch chuckled. “I was just waiting for him to take a swing.”
“Those two are as bad as each other.”
“Maybe. Mind you, Ella’s been all business since I went to see her that night. Like butter wouldn’t melt.”
“I still don’t trust her,” Luka said. “Anyway, how’s it going with your tenant in Seaview Road? Mike’s interested, as long as he can move in early next year.”
“Her contract’s almost up, so she’ll be out of my hair soon. If not, I might have to change the locks. So, hook me up. I’m keen.”
“Perfect.”
“It’s been the year from hell having her in my life. But, anyway, I’m counting down the days. I should have trusted my gut.”
“How did she take it?”
“I haven’t told her yet. I’ll get my lawyer to sort it out while I’m down South. She’ll be out by the new year.”
“Okay, I’ll give him your details. The space will make a great café. Any problems converting the side room into a kitchen? ”
“Shouldn’t be. We’ll take a look once she’s moved all her stuff out.”
“How’s Tayla?”
“Great.”
“She’s a keeper that one. I’m glad you guys are happy.”
Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, me too. Maybe Norman had a few clues after all.”
“Say hi to her from me.”
As Mitch strolled out of his office, still on the phone, he noticed Tayla heading for the bedroom. “Hey, I have to go. Talk soon.”
“Hi.” Mitch followed her into their room. “You’re home already?”
The overheard words of his phone conversation screaming in her head, Tayla turned to look at him. Who had he been talking to? CeCe? Telling CeCe that she’d be out of his hair soon? Or Prue? And why say he’d change the locks when he never locked the damn doors anyway?
She swallowed hard and looked away. “I had a headache…so I finished early.”
“Shall I get you some paracetamol?” He stepped forward and reached out to brush a lock of hair off her face.
“Thanks, but I had a couple at work.”
“I’ve just been talking to Luka. He said to say hi.”
Of course, Luka. “How is he?” Tayla liked Luka, but betrayal comes in many forms, and Luka would always be Mitch’s friend, not hers. Even so, she would miss the friendships she’d made while living at Lime Tree Hill when it was time to move on. Those people in his circle—friends, family, the workers in the packing shed, and Ned and his darling wife.
“He’s good. Are you sure you’re okay?” He held her at arm’s length so he could take a better look. “You’re a little pale. ”
Pause, Tayla. Pause.
“I’ll be fine. I might lie down for a bit.”
He kissed her on the forehead, his scent reminding her of that night in the back of the Hilux at Petrie Bay. Her ‘necking in the back seat’ experience.
“Okay. I need to check an irrigation pump. I’ll be half an hour at most. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll cook.”
Tayla lay on top of the covers and watched him leave, a tight ball of emotion grabbing her throat in a stranglehold. Had she missed the clues? Wanted their marriage to work so badly that she succumbed to false hope instead of facing cold hard facts?
Now she had to spend the next twenty-four hours pretending, then wait for the inevitable call from his lawyer as she played her part in their marriage lie. And what was there to sort out? Everything had been watertight from the beginning. She had no right to anything of his, especially not his stone-cold heart. Had she been no more than a convenience to him?
He’d played his part well—the caring husband with the good-guy persona and drool-worthy body. Her heart wide open, she’d lived in his home and slept in his bed, willingly giving him what he wanted—where and when he wanted it. But now, Mitch was counting down the days. Year from hell!
The door opened and Tayla stirred. She hadn’t meant to doze off, but as she’d pulled the quilt around her, she couldn’t stay awake. Staying awake meant rehashing Mitch’s conversation with Luka. There’d be plenty of time for that next week while he hiked the Milford Track with ‘the boys.’
He climbed in behind her and held her close as he peppered kisses down her neck and across her shoulder blades. She stiffened and closed her eyes again. The brush of his lips and his warmth was the best feeling ever.
“Are you ready to eat?” Mitch asked.
“What time is it?”
“Six thirty. I’ve made chili. ”
“Okay. I’ll get up.” She stretched forward but didn’t make eye contact.
He pulled her back into his arms. “Not just yet. We’ve hardly had any time together lately. And I’m away tomorrow. Tell me about your day.”
“Nothing much to tell. It was frantic, as usual. But I’m not sure if they’ll have many hours for me after Christmas, though.”
“Would you consider going into private practice?” Mitch moved his hand to the back of her neck, his touch soft and reassuring as he traced his fingers in lazy circles.
“Maybe, but I’m not making any major decisions at the moment.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s wise.” He rose from the bed. “Right, let’s eat. I still haven’t finished my packing.”
They ate dinner in uncomfortable silence. She didn’t trust herself to speak. What was the point in confronting him about Prue? Or his phone call with Luka? Making a scene would only add to her humiliation. As he’d said, he wasn’t her keeper, and she wasn’t his.
After dessert, Mitch retreated to his office. She heard him on the phone to CeCe, laughing as they talked. Her life was in turmoil, and he acted as if the world were his oyster. Mr. Lime Tree Hill. King of his domain.
Tayla grabbed a throw off the sofa in the living room and stepped onto the balcony, where she sat in Norman’s old wicker chair. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, wondering where Norman’s soul might be as she questioned her beliefs about life—and death. Could he sense her as his soul floated in another spiritual plane, away from ordinary people and their petty differences?
She inhaled deeply, the scent of lemon blossom wafting up from the garden below. It was her favorite smell in the whole world and had been Norman’s too. He’d said that when he read a great book, he could smell the lemon blossom between the pages. And as she matured, she knew what he meant.
Thoughts of Hayden surfaced. Hayden with his double standards and walking contradictions, who crossed a line she’d never thought he’d cross…
“Come to bed.”
The timbre of Mitch’s voice startled her, pent-up emotion overtaking her resolve to stay strong. Looking up, she pulled the throw tight around her shoulders. “I’ll be there soon.”
He stepped forward and kissed the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Don’t stay up too late.” He walked back inside and shut the sliding door behind him.
Tayla’s feelings remained conflicted. She wanted to scream at him for the situation they’d agreed to commit to. Tell him she’d overheard his phone call. Found the jacket and panties. Knew Prue had stayed.
She wanted to pack her bags and leave.
And yet, despite her inner turmoil, part of her longed for his touch. The feeling of his muscular arms wrapped around her as he whispered how sexy and beautiful she was. How much he loved her.
She wanted him to care.
Tayla stayed outside until after eleven, gazing at the midnight-blue sky with its brazen moon. It intrigued her how some stars appeared in her peripheral vision, but when she looked directly at them, they disappeared. Was this a metaphor for life? If she examined her problems too closely, the solution was uncertain. But if she shifted her focus a fraction, everything became clearer.
When she slipped in beside him, Mitch was already asleep. She moved into his warmth, aware he was leaving straight after breakfast. Would this be the last time they shared a bed, reached for each other during sleep?
Tayla woke around dawn to the sound of Mitch in the bathroom. The temperature had dropped, and the air felt unseasonably cool. He slipped back into bed a few minutes later. As he moved over to cuddle her, she lay her hand over his like she always did when they spooned, desperate for that last thread of connection.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered. “Are you sad about being alone?”
She paused. Took a breath. “A bit.”
“I’ve been thinking. With everything that’s been going on, maybe you should stay with your folks while I’m away. Ned will look after Edward.”
She closed her eyes tight. “Okay. But they’re going on a road trip to Auckland tomorrow for Dad’s checkup and to visit the grandkids.”
“Even so, at least there you’ll have people close by. That Mrs. what’s-her-name from next door won’t leave you alone.”
“I guess. And her name’s Hannah.”
“I’m gonna miss you. So much.” His lips found her neck in the darkness, and the intensity hit her head-on. And as she heard the foil wrapper of a condom tear, her whole body tightened. Anticipation.
She struggled to resist, and the world around her disappeared as he filled her senses. His words calm and reassuring. His touch commanding and seemingly sincere.
They kissed, hot and hard against one another, his desperation showing in dominance. He rolled Tayla onto her back, their fingers entwined above her head, and entered her without restraint. This was dawn lovemaking at its best. Where foreplay was the act, and the act foreplay, as he edged his release by careful variation of speed and intensity.
Mitch pulled back and sat on his haunches, his expression tender in the shadows of sunrise and uncertainty. He shook his head. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. What would I do without you?”
She stilled, watching with wide eyes as he stroked himself. A few months ago, she would have lowered her eyes in embarrassment, but she wasn’t that girl anymore. After all, the erotic mind is not politically correct. If it was to be their last time, she wanted to make it count. Determined to stay in control, she held his gaze without shame.
Mitch moved off the bed and sat on the low slipper chair in the corner of the room. Tayla rolled onto her side, one hand between her legs. He enjoyed watching her touch herself; she liked it too. Self-pleasuring was nothing to be ashamed of and having him watch only added to the experience.
He offered his hand. “Come here.”
She stood before him, just out of reach. He cocked his finger. “Closer.”
Tayla stepped forward and slowly lowered herself onto his impressive erection. As she started to move, strong hands guided her hips with gentle pressure.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “You gonna let me light you up?”
“Yes.”
“Say it again,” he hissed as he increased his hold on her hips, moving her now in expert rhythm.
“Yes! A hundred times, yes.”
“No thinking now.” He pumped harder. “Just feel.”
Leaning forward, Mitch took her breast in his mouth and nipped. She arched her back and closed her eyes. Cried out. He groaned deep within his throat, his legs trembling beneath her as she let go—his release, loud and audacious, hers quieter but just as intense.
Tayla rested her head on his shoulder, panting for rhythmic breath while Mitch did the same. Stroking her hair as he softened inside her, he whispered, “I love you, Tayla. Always trust me on that.”
Emotion rose in her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I love you too.”
The sob freed, uncontrolled and raw. Holding her with care, Mitch moved to the bed and lowered her onto her side. He covered her with the duvet and climbed in behind her. “Hey. Don’t be upset. Everything will be fine, I promise.” They clung together, finding their fit in that moment in time and staying that way until she stilled into sleep.
When she woke a few hours later, he’d eaten breakfast and was packed and ready to go.